


Legacy

by AdorableDoom



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9131320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorableDoom/pseuds/AdorableDoom
Summary: He was just the pilot. Except he was so much more than that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Major spoilers for Rogue One: A Star Wars Story.

     "You don't really look like a Jedi."  
      As soon as the words left his mouth, Bodhi would have given anything to be able to take them back. Or have the floor open up and swallow him. "I mean, I've never actually seen a Jedi so I don't really know what they looked like but you're not what I imagined a Jedi would look like." Yeah, that second option seemed preferable since he couldn't seem to stop talking and making a complete and utter fool of himself. Thankfully, Luke Skywalker (because of course it was Luke Skywalker who Bodhi was being an idiot in front of. Wasn't that just his luck?) smiled at him.  
       "I don't," he agreed with a laugh. "Obi Wan was the only other Jedi I ever met and I definitely don't look much like him." Luke Skywalker is not what Bodhi expected though he wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting but it certainly wasn't the bright, smiling person in the equally bright orange flight suit standing before him. He's young, whatever Bodhi had been expecting, it certainly wasn't someone so, well, young. They had played Jedis as kids growing up on Jedha, using sticks as lightsabers and saving the galaxy while they ran around the crowded marketplace before the Empire turned a child's game into treason and tried to erase the heroes from history itself.  
       Whenever Bodhi had pictured the Jedi, he'd always pictured the solemn robed figures from the statues that had once reached the sky before the Empire had come to Jedha and cut them down. Certainly not smiling pilots in bright orange flight suits. "Are you looking for Antilles?" Bodhi asked, casting a glance around the crowded hanger but it was hard to pick out one orange clad pilot in a sea of them. "I saw him earlier but I'm not sure where he--" Skywalker shook his head, smiling fading into a look that if Bodhi didn't know better he might have called it embarrassment.  
         "Actually I was looking for you, Captain Andor said you might be down here working on your ship," Skywalker said while Bodhi stared at him in open mouthed shock. He knew Cassian wasn't technically well enough to receive visitors yet but he doubted rules like that mattered much when it came to the hero (the Jedi, an actual Jedi, here in the flesh) who destroyed the Death Star. "I am down here, working on my ship," Bodhi said, barely able to resist the urge to bury his face in his hands to hide his shame. Why, why did he say things like that?  
        Thankfully, Skywalker grinned again, actually looking almost relieved. He looked over Bodhi's shoulder at the battered cargo ship. The Alliance high command had offered Bodhi his pick of any of the ships they had at their disposal ( "Such a small thing, compared to what you've done for us," Mon Mothma had said in sincere gratitude when she had come to see him after they'd arrived on Hoth. Thankfully he'd still been a little dazed from the pain medication otherwise he might have fainted and been unconscious another ten days) but Bodhi had declined. This was his ship, their ship, the ship that had carried them off the burning, dying surface of Scarif. It had barely survived the trip back to Yavin 4 and had needed to be towed to Hoth.  
       Although he hadn't technically officially been cleared by medical for any kind of assignment, Bodhi couldn't just sit around waiting for his injuries to heal so he'd started slipping down to work on the ship. He kept expecting someone to stop him but no one did. Benefit of surviving what should have by all rights been a suicide mission he supposed. "It looks like you'll have it back in the air in no time," Skywalker said. "I hope so," Bodhi said, patting the blaster marred hull lightly.  
     They weren't there yet. Not by a long shot. But one day, hopefully. Skywalker took a step forward and laid his own hand on the hull. "That's why I'm here actually, well, partially," he said. "Wedge and I are thinking of putting a new squadron together and I wanted to run the name by you."

 

     "Rogue Squadron! That's what they want to call themselves, Rogue Squadron!"  
     Logically, Bodhi knows he should lower his voice. That lying across the foot of Jyn's bed and yelling at the dimpled ceiling is a good way to get him throw out but honestly he doesn't think he could stop if he tried. "I think that's a fine name," came Chirrut's amused voice from somewhere to his left. He'd been unconscious until only a few standard days ago, hovering somewhere between life and death. The medics weren't sure he was going to make it at all until the moment he had awoken.  
    "Why though! Why that name?" he asked the ceiling. "They could have any name they want, why that one?" It was just a call sign. Something he had made up on the spot to avoid being shot. Yet, even as he thought that, Bodhi knew that wasn't the truth.  
Maybe it had started out as that, another desperate bet in a lifelong series of desperate bets. But it had become something more, something so much more than that at least to him. "It gives them hope," Baze said, also from somewhere to his left. Hope. Bodhi thought back to the moment they had left Base One, none of them thinking they would ever see it again.  
      A lot of them hadn't.  
     Bodhi had made more than his fair share of bad bets in his life. That moment though, as their stole ship had left the base behind, that hadn't felt like a bad bet. Even if they had never made it back, he knew he had made the right call. "We want to honor you," Skywalker had explained while Bodhi had gaped at him, unable to form words. "None of us would be here if it wasn't for you."  
     "He's right," Cassian pointed out somewhere off to the right. Bodhi groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm not a hero! I'm just a pilot!" Bodhi had lamented. No sooner at the words left his mouth than Jyn's washed out but throughly amused face filled his vision. "I hate to be the one to tell you this but you're both," she smiled.  
Bodhi gaped up at her which in turn only seemed to make her smile wider. A hero. Bodhi had been a lot of things in his life. A pilot. A defector. A rebel. He'd been things he'd never wanted to be and things that he had never imagined he'd be.  
      They had gotten the plans. Against all the odds, they had done the impossible. He had done the impossible. "Rogue Squadron," he said again, smiling this time.  
    "It's a good name."  
     It was their name.  
     His name.  
     And now an entire new group of pilots would carry on that legacy.

**Author's Note:**

> How did they survive? The Force willed it. Trust me on this.


End file.
